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  GUILTY NEEDS

  The heart has no control

  SHILOH WALKER

  COPYRIGHT

  Published by Shiloh Walker

  Guilty Needs © Shiloh Walker

  Initial Publication 2008

  Second Publication 2016

  ISBN 9781625179845

  Cover © Shiloh Walker

  Cover Design, Fonts from PicMonkey & Fotor

  Cover Image © Ros_end via Bigstock Images

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you did not legally obtain a copy of this book, then you should purchase your own copy.

  Please note that if you purchased this from an auction site or blog, it’s stolen property. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Your support is what makes it possible for authors to continue to provide the stories you enjoy.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  GUILTY NEEDS

  Shiloh Walker

  I know you love him…

  Not the words you want to hear from your best friend. Especially when the him she is talking about is the man she’s married to. But when Alyssa Hutchins said those words, Bree realized her best friend knew the one secret she’d hoped to keep hidden for always.

  Just before she died, Alyssa asked Bree to promise her something, but it’s a promise that Bree isn’t sure she can keep.

  Colby Hutchins left town the day he buried his wife, but he couldn’t outrun the pain of losing her…nor could he outrun the guilt. The very night he buried his wife, he’d almost done the unthinkable. All Bree had done was offer comfort, but he had wanted more. Still wants more.

  Chased by guilty needs and taunted by dreams where Bree offers so much more than comfort, he returns home to close the book on the life that ended with his wife’s death. But he comes face to face with Bree and it sets everything inside him to burning all over him.

  These two battered souls long to be together, but something unspoken lingers between them…

  “If I did something I probably shouldn’t do, would you forgive me?” he asked, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.

  “Ah…I guess that would depend on what the ‘something’ is.”

  His voice was gruff and low. “This.” He let go of her wrist and used both hands to cup her face and tilt her head back. Then he kissed her.

  Not some friendly peck on the cheek, either.

  His tongue pushed inside her mouth, delving deep. Her knees buckled and she instinctively brought her hands up, wrapped them around his wrists to steady herself. It was a waste of energy though—nothing could steady her. They barely touched, his mouth on hers, his hands cupping her face while hers clutched at his wrists. But that contact was enough to shatter the foundation of her world.

  He eased up, lifted his head just a little. An involuntary whimper escaped her and she swayed toward him. He growled low in his throat and reached for her, hauling her against him until they were plastered together. Her breasts pressed flat against the muscled wall of his chest and his cock cuddled against the mound of her sex.

  He took her mouth again, tracing the outline of her lips with his tongue before pushing inside. One hand stroked down her side, his fingers grazing the outer curve of her breast, then down, down, down, until he could palm her ass. He did so, drawing her closer and holding her steady as he pumped against her.

  She shuddered in response. Her pussy went hot and slick with need, aching, yearning to feel him inside her. Her nipples stabbed into his chest—burning hot, swollen, sensitive.

  She needed more. That was all she could think. She needed more.

  Everything.

  Fisting her hands in his shirt, she rocked to meet him. Whimpered. Might have even begged, if he hadn’t been feasting on her mouth as though he were starved for the taste of her.

  She might have even believed he was. If she believed in fairy tales.

  A car horn blared, shattering the silence. She jerked, would have torn away from him if he had let her. Panicked, she stared up at him. Colby returned her gaze levelly, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “That’s the something.”

  Dedication

  For my family, always

  To all the loyal readers who supported me over the years.

  To my agent Elaine Spender of The Knight Agency.

  To the group at Inscribe Digital.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Look for Shiloh’s Latest…

  Look for other titles by Shiloh

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The wind cut across the graveyard, cold and bitter, sharp as a knife and unrelenting. The rain continued to fall, every bit as cold and unrelenting as the wind. The cemetery was empty now, save for a couple of miserable souls—the workers waiting to shovel the wet earth over the gleaming, shell-pink coffin and two mourners.

  Alyssa Hutchins

  Beloved Wife

  Dear Friend

  That was it. It didn’t seem to do her justice, her life summed up in those three lines. How could thirty years on this earth be condensed down to three damn lines? Bridgette Lancaster—Bree—knew just how little justice those lines did Alyssa. She hadn’t been a dear friend. She’d been the friend—the kind of friend everybody should have at least one of. Not just the kind of friend you’d call when you were bummed over a guy, or when you needed to go shoe shopping. Not even just the kind of friend you’d call if you needed to bury a body.

  Oh, God…she flinched as her mind played back memories of days when she’d stormed into the room she’d shared with Alyssa throughout college. Her best friend would take one look, then with a conspiratorial smile, she’d ask, Where do you want to hide the body?

  Not that Lyssa could ever hurt anybody. She just didn’t have it in her.

  Where do you want to hide the body?

  The body. Shit—

  She tore her mind away from those memories. Harmless little comments tossed out to make each other feel better after a bad day. Maybe some day, Bree could look back and smile again. But she didn’t know.

  Alyssa had been the kind of friend who knew your every little secret, even those Bree wished nobody knew—especially not Alyssa. And she’d loved Bree anyway.

  God, Lys. How are we going to make it without you? Bree thought, swallowing the knot in her throat.

  Then her gaze was drawn to Colby. Colby Hutchins, Alyssa’s husband…and Bree’s darkest secret. The one secret she’d hoped Alyssa would never discover…

  “Hey.”

  Alyssa turned her head and saw Bree standing in the doorway. She smiled, and even as thin as she had become from the cancer, the smile lit her entire face and made her beautiful. “Hey, yourself.”

  Bree came into the room and settled her hip on the edge of the hospital bed. When the doctors told them there was nothing left to be done, both Colby and Alyssa had insisted she come home. For the past three weeks, Alyssa had lived in the home she and Colby had built from the ground up, just three years earlier. Their dream home—built when a combination of luck and hard work had paid off for Colby and he’d hit the wr
iter’s version of the lottery, an overnight bestseller followed with an offer for more books, the kind of offer that would make a lot of people weep.

  The money made it possible for him to take care of his dying wife without relying on a hospital. Private round-the-clock nursing care kept her as comfortable as anybody could hope for and Colby himself took care of giving her baths, brushing her thinning hair and coaxing her to eat or drink as often as he could.

  Thankless work, Bree guessed, but all it did was make her love him more. If he was bitter over the lot life had handed him, he never showed it. Married less than seven years, they’d been talking about having kids soon, then a routine exam revealed something none of them could have prepared for. Cervical cancer—the rapidly advancing kind. Too advanced for surgery and, they soon discovered, too advanced for medical treatment.

  By the time the doctors caught the cancer, it was just too damn late.

  “Where’s Colby?” Bree asked, taking the tube of lotion from the bedside table and squeezing some into her palm to rub onto Alyssa’s hands. Colby had done her nails again—Bree knew it was his handiwork because of the slightly uneven strokes near the cuticles. Practically since middle school, Alyssa had given herself manicures every week and painted her nails in some vivid shade of red or pink with a fru-fru name that made Bree snort.

  Closing her eyes, Alyssa smiled and said, “I made him leave the house for a while.”

  Bree laughed. “And how did you do that?”

  “I told him I wanted some ice cream from Schone’s. It’s summer.”

  “Lime sherbet,” Bree murmured, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you’ve got something of an appetite today.”

  Alyssa grimaced. “I don’t have an appetite. I’ll eat a little, but I needed him to leave for a little while.”

  “Why? I know he’s hovering but—”

  “It’s not that.” She turned her head on the pillow, studying Bree with solemn eyes. “I just needed to talk to you. I want you to do me a favor.”

  Fingers slippery with lotion, Bree squeezed Alyssa’s hand. Alyssa squeezed back, but the lack of strength there was heartbreaking. She’d gotten so weak. Forcing a smile, Bree said, “You know all you have to do is ask. We need to go bury a body?”

  “Just mine.”

  Bree flinched. It was a standing joke between them, that they’d help bury the body if one of them ever needed that kind of help. But it wouldn’t be too long before a body was buried—Alyssa’s. Bree couldn’t think about that right now. “Lys—”

  “Don’t, Bree. Don’t look at me and smile. Don’t look at me and lie, tell me that I’m going to be fine. You and me, we both know I’m not. Colby knows it too, but he dances around it. Nobody can say it.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked back at Bree. Her body might be physically weak, but her determination shown in her eyes. That strength of spirit that had driven every choice in her life and it hadn’t faded a bit. “I need to say it without somebody telling me some pretty lie. I need somebody else besides the damn doctor to admit it to my face. I’m dying, Bree. Say it.”

  Bree’s throat closed up. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Lyssie…”

  “Say it. Lying about it doesn’t change it and it doesn’t help me. I need you to say it.”

  “Why?” Bitter, Bree demanded, “Do you think I don’t know that you— Do you think I don’t know?”

  “I know you know.” Her voice softened and Alyssa shifted, easing her body over a little and then patting the bed beside her.

  Careful, mindful of the tubes running this way and that, Bree lay down beside Alyssa and stared at her through a veil of tears. Alyssa needed to hear it—for some reason, she needed to hear it from Bree. We’ll help each other hide the body, they’d said over the years and they’d meant it. If they’d hide a body together, then surely Bree could do this. She took a deep breath and it shuddered out of her. “You’re dying.” A hard sob almost choked her, but she battled it back down. Not now. She couldn’t break now.

  Later. At home. She’d break then. But not now.

  “Thank you.” Alyssa closed her eyes. “You don’t know how aggravating it gets when people keep lying to me, ‘Oh, you look wonderful. You’re going to be fine’.” She snorted. “I don’t look wonderful and I’m not going to be fine…well, at least not here.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled at Bree. “I had a visitor this morning—Danny Gleason.”

  “Danny Gleason…” Bree ran the name through her mind and finally came up with a face just barely remembered. High school. Major punk, into drugs, into alcohol—then a DUI had put him in the hospital and he’d ended up getting his left leg amputated. Sometime during his recovery, he’d “found God”. Shit. Narrowing her eyes, Bree shoved upright in the bed and demanded, “Was he out here bothering you?”

  Alyssa laughed and patted Bree’s hand. “Calm down, Bree. He came out here because I had Colby ask him to. I…” her voice trailed off and she shrugged. “I had some questions. He’s the kind of man with the answers to those questions. I’ve been so scared, but I’m not so scared now.”

  “After talking with Danny one time?” Bree winced immediately and wished she could take the words back. Hell, what did it matter if Alyssa found some sort of comfort in the life-after-death speech? What did it matter if she believed some ancient fairy tale about everlasting life, forgiveness and salvation? If it gave her comfort, what did it matter?

  Sighing, she shoved a hand through her short, spiked hair and said, “I’m sorry, Alyssa.”

  Alyssa shook her head. “There no reason to be sorry. And yeah, one talk. But sometimes, just one talk can make all the difference. I’m not scared now—and I’m not so angry either.”

  “You haven’t been angry, but hell, don’t you think you’re entitled?”

  “What good does it do me?” Alyssa countered. “And yes, I’ve been angry. I lay awake at night, cussing everything I can possibly think of. But it doesn’t make it any better and it doesn’t make it even easier. It doesn’t change anything, Bree. I hate being angry, I hate wasting what little time I’ve got left that way.”

  That was so totally Alyssa. If it didn’t change things, didn’t improve things, she didn’t want to waste her time with it. Bree, on the other hand, nursed her anger, nursed her grudges, didn’t waste her time giving a smile to a stranger because she had too much on her mind.

  In so many ways, Alyssa was the better person. It shouldn’t be Alyssa lying in this bed, but Bree. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re here for Alyssa right now, not a pity party. She forced herself to smile and hope it didn’t look as fake as it felt.

  But one look at Alyssa assured Bree that smile definitely wasn’t fooling her. “Maybe I should give Danny a call, see if it can make me not so damn angry.”

  “You like being angry,” Alyssa reminded her. Then she shifted on the bed and reached for the little gadget hooked up to her pain medication. It was narcotics, the kind that would put a grown man to sleep. The dosage was patient-controlled and Alyssa pushed the button with a sigh. “I hate needing this stuff.”

  Her lids drooped low over her eyes and Bree waited, wondering if the medicine was going to knock Alyssa out, but it didn’t. She suspected the pain was just getting too bad for medication to control. “Do you need me to get some ice? A blanket?”

  “No. Just that favor.”

  Reaching for Alyssa’s hand, she said, “Name it.”

  “It’s about Colby.”

  Bree’s heart skipped then started to beat faster, faster, until it all but choked her. She schooled her features, years of practice keeping her from reacting, other than her racing heart. “What about him? He’ll be fine, Alyssa. I’ll be here if he needs me, but he’s going to be fine.”

  “Sooner or later, yeah. I know he will. And so will you. But that’s not it.” She wiggled around and said, “Help me sit up, will you? I’m so damn tired of lying down.”

  A few minutes later, several pill
ows plumped up behind her back and the head of the bed elevated, Alyssa sighed. “Oh, that’s better. I might make Colby take me out to the garden later. I’ve missed working in it.”

  “I bet your flowers miss you working on them. Colby’s doing what he can, but he doesn’t have a green thumb. I offered to help but he said he’d rather do it.”

  A grin tugged Alyssa’s lips. “For me.” She sighed, gazing out the window at the riot of colors blooming. “Maybe later you can take care of it. I know he’s not going to keep messing with it after.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Silence fell and Bree found herself uncomfortable with it, nervous. It was weird, feeling nervous like this with her best friend. They didn’t constantly need the silence filled, but today, it felt different. Edgy. Heavy.

  A minute later, though, Bree wished for the awkward silence again. Her heart slammed up into her throat, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her reaction under control. Hell, she couldn’t say anything.

  Patiently, Alyssa repeated the question she’d asked only seconds earlier. “Do you love Colby?”

  Some trite lie formed on the tip of her tongue. Of course I love him—he’s your husband and that makes him almost a brother to me. But she couldn’t. It was just too wrong—lying to her dying friend, claiming to feel a fraternal emotion toward a man who inspired anything but fraternal thoughts. In the end, all she could do was just sit there and blink away tears.

  “What’s going on, Lys?” she asked woodenly.

  “I’m taking care of unfinished business—namely you and Colby. You do love him, don’t you?”

  Mute, Bree nodded. The knot in her throat was so damn huge, it felt as though she was going to choke on it.

  It was words, she realized. Apologies that she should have given long ago. “I’m so sorry, Alyssa. I just…I can’t…I…I…” Jerking her hands away, she covered her face and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? I love him. I know how damn easy he is to love.”